The Wúduwésten two months prior to the King’s announcement.

Elewýs wove between smooth-skinned beech and calloused oak towards the moss covered, stone halls of her adopted home, Wigsteall. Elewýs was tall, taller than any human should be, but she didn’t appear out of place among the strange forest, where everything grew to an abnormal size. She wore a thick, dark-brown, boar-hide doublet over a grey wool tunic and cream, goatskin hose. A russet, fox-fur cloak, sewn from one massive pelt, trailed from her neck, secured by a bright red, clay broach, shaped like a cluster of ivy berries.

On one shoulder, the gutted carcass of a deer, trussed on a thick pole of ash, swung back and forth. In her other hand she held an eight-foot, unstrung yew bow.

Elewýs loved the Wúduwésten. Discouraged by the monstrous Gréatian, the oversized forest animals, few people walked within the forest, preferring to stay behind the walls of Wigsteall, the forest’s only settlement.

She found one of the four, ancient stone roads dividing the forest and followed it west. Her long braid swished back and forth across her back as she hurried along the weed-choked surface. The road had been built by the first forest settlers, the Galdorcwide. The road was straight and empty, punctuated by yellow milestones swirling with many hues, and flanked by the largest trees.

A thirty foot stone wall emerged from between the trees. Another hundred yards and she would be home. Abstract patterns stood out on the wall’s worn surface. Elewýs approached the gate where Hotch slouched against his spear. Elewýs gripped the ash pole holding her trussed deer. The wood groaned.

Hotch’s mangy, unidentifiable fur jacket was poorly shaped, along with the rest of his clothes. He tried to straighten them as she approached. There was an awful lot of Hotch. Most of it was muscle and sullen scowls.

Hotch’s sorry excuse of a smile spread across his annoyingly handsome face, “Hello, Elewýs. Welcome back.”

“Why are you standing there?” said Elewýs.

“I’m guarding the gate.”

The innate magic of the forest had changed Hotch far beyond his original human form. He was ten feet tall and his skin was a pale, dappled mess of coloured patches. His faint discolouration resembled speckles and blotches of mud. She inspected her own hands, picking out the delicate greens, light browns, and fragile blues colouring her skin like a sun-scoured tapestry - much nicer.

“From what?” She tapped one of the arcane patterns on the wall with the horned tip of her bow, “These warding patterns aren’t for decoration.”

“I hoped you’d be back today,” he smiled again.

“And?”

“I thought it would be nice to have a chat without everyone else listening in,” said Hotch.

“So you decided to ambush me by the only entrance, while I’m hauling a carcass about.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant Hotch, but I’m not in the mood. You need to work on your timing.”

Hotch rolled his shoulders, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m tired, dirty, and sore. I’m going to skin my kill, visit the bath house, have a meal, and a snooze. After that, maybe, just maybe, I’ll talk to you, but if you try to force a conversation on me again, it will be you hanging from my shoulder.”

“I’d rather fancied it being the other way around.”

Elewýs stared up at him, wishing she was a foot taller. He didn’t move. She prodded him with her bow.

He frowned.

She pushed past, forcing him to duck away from the dangling deer as she swept through the wicket gate.

Hotch muttered something as she passed. It sounded like bitch.

The road’s condition changed from a cracked, vegetation-strewn mess of stone slabs, to a well maintained thoroughfare enclosed by small stone huts and larger residential halls with sweet chestnut shake roofs.

Several Galdorcwide waved at her as she shuffled down the main street, yawning. The vast trees that filled the town were too difficult to cut down. Instead, all the buildings were constructed around the forest. Most of the homes had at least one tree growing through the roof.

Fourteen adults, six children, and three trees shared her longhall, restored by the adoptees under the patient tutelage of the Galdorcwide. Elewýs paused before the pegged, split timber door of her home for the past three years. The building was two hundred feet long, forty feet high, and about the same in width. Her hand was halfway to the door knocker before she realized knocking was stupid. The latch rattled as she kicked the door open.

Elewýs barged into the dim interior. The hall was a single open space with a sleeping gallery at either end. Several, open shuttered, wax coated canvas windows let in a little light and lots of draughts. A stone and cob oven squatted at each end. They were the adoptees’ greatest engineering achievement - each oven had a chimney that stretched to the roof.

A tree grew through each gallery with steps driven into their trunks. A mixture of woven wooden lattices and fur-hung screens littered the galleries, providing extra warmth and token privacy.

Fustrendel, a Galdorcwide elder, sat on a hide-covered stool by the hall’s work bench with Elewýs’s sister, Menghenyld. The work bench encircled the bole of a great hornbeam, the hall’s third and final tree, which grew slightly off centre to the heart of the structure. The chatting pair turned to face Elewýs as she approached them.

“Another fine addition to your long list of achievements,” said Fustrendel. His voice was gentle and calm. He didn’t seem surprised at her return, as if he’d known where she was all along. His skin was laced with streaks of bright scarlet and rich gold. His colours were the most intense of all the Galdorcwide: rather than hint of pigment, they were vivid splotches of impossible ink, highlighting his hair and skin.

Fustrendel’s skin was marred by faint, fine-lined symbols, marked in black that covered his hands and face and disappeared beneath his clothing.

Elewýs had almost run away the first time she’d seen him. She’d never quite understood why she hadn’t. She smiled, “Thank you.”

She placed her pungent prize down on the polished, earthen floor and lent her bow against the workbench, “How are your water gardens today?”

Fustrendel wore a silver-scaled, fish skin doublet, coated with a flexible, transparent resin. The doublet appeared brand new, but he was wearing it when she met him. White wolf-fur hose and goatskin boots peeked from beneath his dark red tunic.

“Tranquil and flourishing. They finished flowering while you were away. We’ll enjoy a good crop of cattails this year.”

“And your fish?” said Menghenyld. Her clothes matched her skin colours: a daisy white tunic and a dandelion yellow apron.

“My silvery beauties are fat and lazy,” said Fustrendel. He reached up from his seat and tapped the studs in Elewýs’s ears. She frowned. I wish he hadn’t noticed those.

“Better than ours then,” said Menghenyld.

“You can’t compete without a pond, my dear,” said Fustrendel.

“All that digging, mining, and carrying of clay, then buckets from the well,” Elewýs shook her head, “it's easier to hunt.”

Menghenyld laughed, “Only you would think that, Elewýs.”

“When you all truly feel at home among us, I’m sure you’ll work together and build one, like you did with your wonderful hall,” said Fustrendel.

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“Maybe one day,” said Elewýs.

“It’s not that we’re not grateful for everything the Galdorcwide have done for us,” said Menghenyld. “We know we can never go home.”

“No matter how much time passes, the loss will always be with you,” said Fustrendel. “I would be worried if you pretended otherwise.” He clapped his hands, “Elewýs, if that sack on your belt is filled with what I think it is, I would like to trade your offal for some fish, or vegetables. My maggots need feeding, and so in turn, do my fish.”

“Always, Fustrendel. Thank you for your help.”

Fustrendel reached into the willow basket by his knees and, with little obvious effort, hauled a two-hundred pound, silver carp from its depths with a proud flourish. It wasn’t a fair trade, but Fustrendel never asked for more, and refused if it was offered.

Menghenyld cheered.

Grinning, Fustrendel withdrew a large bundle of giant watercress. Elewýs handed over her pitiful bag of innards. Fustrendel stowed it in his basket with intense concentration.

The man really loves his fish.

He slipped his basket onto his back, “How are you getting on with my son?”

Elewýs flailed. I spent two weeks in the woods to avoid that question! She took a deep breath, “Eormenric proposed to me.”

“Oh!” said Menghenyld.

“Excellent,” said Fustrendel. “Wasn’t sure he had it in him.”

“He stuttered it out before I left.”

“What did you say?” said Menghenyld.

“‘Yes’,” said Elewýs.

Menghenyld smirked. “That’s it?”

Elewýs felt the blood rush to her face, “I, erm, ran off.”

“Do you love him?” said Fustrendel.

Elewýs shuddered. She was as unsure of the answer as she’d been two weeks prior, “I think so.”

Fustrendel stared at Elewýs for a whole minute, nodded slowly, then headed for the door, “Please visit soon.”

“I will,” said Elewýs.

The door thudded shut. Elewýs rested her forehead against the workbench and closed her eyes.

Chuckling, Menghenyld rubbed Elewýs's back, “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

Elewýs leaned back and stared at the ceiling, “Maybe I should have refused.”

“You’d be forever fending off the hounds with that monstrous bow of yours if you’d said no. Eormenric is the best placed man in Wigsteall, I doubt he’ll even fuss over you running out on him. He’s a good man.”

“I know.” Elewýs sighed then stood. She hefted the deer with one hand and swung it onto her shoulder, “I’d better take care of this.”

Menghenyld gripped Elewýs’s arm, “I need details.”

“I’m sure you do.” Elewýs picked her sister’s hand from her arm and hurried towards the back door.

Menghenyld sighed, “Hunig is in the yard, could you check on her?”

Elewýs waved her assent.

Every longhall had a stone walled enclosure a similar size to the hall itself. They provided a safe area for both children and oversized poultry. The adoptees’ enclosure also boasted a shiny new shelter for curing hides and a small smoke shack. Elewýs spotted an energetic toddler wearing the stuffed head of a Gréatian wolf and little else. Her orange speckled toes poked out of the bottom of its severed neck.

“She’s chasing the chickens!” said Elewýs. The birds had bright blue plumage, yellow feathered wings, and scarlet crests. They were the size of a large dog and could weigh up to sixty pounds.

“Stop her!” shouted Menghenyld. “I don’t want her getting scratched again.”

“Hunig!” said Elewýs.

The toddler ignored her and continued to totter after the scattering birds, giggling. Elewýs heard a snort and turned. Her younger brother, Heudebrant, was leaning against the smoke shack, biting his index finger and shaking with laughter. He wore an un-dyed wool tunic and hose. His skin was coloured with subtle, spring-leaf green and russet patches.

“Some responsible adult you are,” said Elewýs.

“She’s not hurting them and she’s having fun,” said Heudebrant.

“Right up until one of them turns around and attacks her.”

“Their beaks can’t puncture the wolf’s head.”

“But they’ll leave a nasty bruise and noisy tears,” said Elewýs. She hung the deer carcass between two wooden tripods.

“I’ll rescue her if she needs it,” said Heudebrant.

I don’t see him for two weeks and the first thing I do is criticize him. That was unnecessary.

The silence stretched. Elewýs couldn’t stay still, she prowled between the fleeing poultry, intercepted the Hunig, grabbed the toddler from the blizzard of feathers, and clamped her over her shoulder. The wolf head’s fur scratched against Elewýs’s neck.

Hunig bawled.

“Great, just great. I spend two weeks sleeping in trees and come back to a twit on the gate, a cryptic, future father-in-law, and a screaming child that isn’t mine.”

“She’s your niece.”

“Help me, Heude. Please.”

Heudebrant extracted the squirming mess of tears from her ridged arms. Hunig stopped crying instantly.

“I’ll take her inside,” said Heudebrant.

Elewýs waved him away and sat down among the rainbow of chickens. She’d lost it over a crying child. What’s wrong with me?

Heudebrant tapped her on the shoulder, a cup of nettle tea in his hands.

“Thanks,” said Elewys.

“No problem.” He gestured at the cup, “Do you like it?”

It was patterned like oak bark. A strand of honeysuckle curled from its base to the rim, “It’s lovely.”

“I thought you’d like it. I still need to glaze it with the rest of the batch, but I think I’ll be able to trade it for something.

“We need cups too, you know.”

Heudebrant laughed and offered her his hand, “Let’s skin your deer together.”

“I’d like that.”

They wandered from the centre of the yard to the shelter and sat before the trussed animal.

“How far did you go for this one?” said Heudebrant.

“Right to the northern edge of the forest.”

“Encounter anything?”

“Only the deer, I don’t think it had been in the forest for long, it’s too small,” said Elewýs.

Heudebrant nodded, “I wish I knew what changed them,” he pointed at himself, “and us.”

“No one seems willing to explain.”

“Maybe you can squeeze the secret from Eormenric.” He smirked, “Kiss and tell.”

“Wipe that cheeky smile of your face.” She blinked, “Wait, how do you know?”

“Eormenric searched for you two of days after you left. He found me.” Heudebrant’s grin widened, “I don’t know why you’re so embarrassed.”

Elewýs slumped against the back of the longhall, “It’s silly, isn’t it? I think the idea of proclaiming our relationship to the world makes me nervous.”

“I like him.”

“That’s what everyone says.” Elewýs retied her yellow hair band, stopping her frizz from snagging on the carcass, “I met Hotch on the way back.”

Her brother made the appropriate sympathetic wince, “How did it go?”

“Not well. He won’t take no for an answer.”

“Is that why you’re marrying Eormenric?” Heudebrant leaned close and whispered, “I promise not to tell.”

She shuddered, he’d picked out her worst thoughts and had the nonchalant audacity to say it. “I wouldn’t do something that petty. I couldn’t play Eormenric around like that.”

Heudebrant pulled a leaf from her hair, “For both your sakes, I hope that’s true.”

“Me too.”

“Perhaps with your marriage we will not only lose our lingering, outcast status, but can put our own pasts behind us too.”

Elewýs tried a smile but it faded. She slipped her knife between hide and flesh. There was a sucking noise as one was parted from the other, “Do you miss our parents?”

Heudebrant frowned, “Of course I do. They missed Menghenyld’s wedding and they’ve never seen Hunig.”

“I’m not sure I want to see their reactions,” said Elewýs. “The horror on mother’s face when she last saw us was awful. We were seven-foot with normal skin and she tried to ‘set me free’ with a cleaver. Dad never seemed to mind, but I’m glad he didn’t come with us. I wouldn’t want to see him cursed too.”

“I wish I could forget that,” said Heudebrant.

Unable to think of anything more to say, Elewýs hacked at the deer with her skinning knife.

Heudebrant nudged her arm with his elbow and waved his sticky knife at the deer, “I’ll finish this. You’re ruining the hide.”

“I’m fine.”

“There’s no need to pretend with me, I’m your brother. Go to bed.”

Elewýs wiped her knife on a stray rag then shoved the knife into its sheath, “Alright.”